Better
by SereneCalamity
Summary: Napoleon was strong but caring. Gaby was sassy but sweet. And Illya was angry. Always angry. Or at least he used to be. Illya/Napoleon/Gaby. OneShot.


_I absolutely love the idea of these three together. Shit, I'm pretty sure I've read every single one of the stories out there revolving around them, and so I had to do one of my own!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, only the plot, and the mistakes, which I'm sure there are a lot of because I'm so tiiiired._

Illya Kuryakin was effective because he lived in this perpetually angry state. Sometimes it made people sloppy and miss things, but he never did. He was good at his job, and he never missed a target. He knew how to channel his anger. He took orders because that's what he had always been trained to do and because there had never been anything else in his life. And for a long time, almost thirty-two years, that was enough. But then he had been put together with Napoleon Solo and Gaby Teller and he realized that something was missing. Something that he had pushed down deep inside him for a long time.

Napoleon was charming. A little bit too charming for his own good. He was a good agent, as much as Illya hadn't wanted to admit it at first, but he grudgingly did so as their time together went by. He knew how to show he cared better than Napoleon, and was easier around Gaby. They were quick friends, they had good banter going back and forth between them and she clearly liked him.

Gaby was a bit more complicated. He hadn't wanted to trust her from the beginning, and then when it had looked as though she had betrayed them, he was already past the point of no return. She was smart and she was resourceful and she had a quick mouth on her. But she was like Napoleon. When she cared about someone, she could show it. And she smelt so good, all the time, like fresh flowers.

Illya cared for them both a lot more than he cared to ever admit out loud.

They were his partners.

They were _more_ than his partners.

They were his friends.

They were...His family.

Despite the flirtation between Illya and Gaby, it was actually Napoleon that he was with first. Illya had been with men before, more than once, but it had always been because of a job. Sometimes he had liked it, but most of the time he hadn't; he had always emotionally detached himself from the situation and it was just his body. But Napoleon had let him take charge, without relenting too much so that it felt as though this was just a pity fuck. It had been a late night, and Illya had actually let himself get drunk, which was unusual for him. Napoleon had helped him home, or at least, their temporary home for the next few weeks, and then put him down on the couch. Illya had watched him move around the kitchen easily, getting some coffee ready to help him prevent a hangover tomorrow, and he had felt his cock twitch in his pants.

When Napoleon had come back, Illya had gripped his wrist and stared up at his American partner. Napoleon's gorgeous, earnest eyes had clouded slightly, tilting his head to the side in confusion. They stared at each other for a few long minutes before Napoleon leaned down and tentatively pressed his lips to Illya's. Illya had responded instantly, his other hand coming up to hold the back of Napoleon's head against his. Illya kissed the way he fought, like he intended to win. Filthy. That he needed to be the one on top.

And Napoleon let him.

They fell onto the ground, Illya's movements slightly sloppy given his level of intoxication, but happy to let him take over as he gripped at his pants and pushed them down. Napoleon let out a long groan as Illya's hands jerked open his zipper and his hand found Napoleon's cock, which was already hard and throbbing.

"You want this as much as me, Cowboy?" Illya grunted, although it wasn't really a question, because it was pretty obvious how much his CIA partner _did_ want it.

It had been a little messy and it took them a few minutes to get into sync, but once Napoleon was lubed and ready and Illya had pushed himself inside his tight hole, the two of them were groaning and thrusting against each other. The whole thing wasn't how either of them had planned for their evening to go, but neither of them were complaining. Illya pounded into Napoleon and Napoleon took it well, lifting his hips to meet each of the thrusts, his strong hands wrapped around Illya's hips and digging into his ass cheeks to make him push into him harder.

The next day they had acted as though nothing had happened. Napoleon was walking a little stiffly though, and Illya couldn't stop the satisfied smirk when Gaby asked if he was okay and he had to come up with an excuse. The excuse was good, and it was delivered smoothly, because Napoleon had a way with twisting the truth and making it sound realistic, but Illya knew the truth.

Gaby and Napoleon had slept together next. It was only a couple of weeks later, and Illya had told them to go out without him, that he wanted to stay in and read. That was the truth, he did want to stay in and read, but he had also been seeing the way the two had been exchanging looks and he _wanted_ them to get together. He wanted them to get together in front of him, but he guessed that it was small steps. Napoleon probably would be all for it, but as wordly as Gaby tried to make herself appear, Illya wasn't sure about her.

So he was willing to wait.

And he hoped that they would make it work without too long.

Their rooms were all side by side, and the walls were thin. When the two of them crashed into Gaby's apartment that night, Illya could hear them. He pretended that he wanted to go to bed, but in all honesty, if they hadn't come back, he would still be in his kitchenette, a cup of coffee in his hand and his book open. He sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the muffled thumps and moans from the door next to him. He was so hard in his pants that he was in physical pain, but he refused to relieve himself. There was a particularly loud moan, and then he heard Gaby gasping out Napoleon's name and Illya's whole body tensed up.

It wasn't until there was a long stretch of silence, almost twenty minutes, when they had both finished, that Illya finally got up and walked into his bathroom, undoing his pants and touching himself until thick cum was covering his fist.

* * *

And then it was the three of them.

Gaby was in the middle, running her hands over Illya's chest and reaching up to wrap her arms around his thick neck and pull him in close to her, tugging his head down so that she could touch her lips to his. Napoleon was behind her, dropping kisses to her bare shoulder, tracing the delicate curve of her neck with his tongue, his hands massaging her hips through her dress. And then she pulled her mouth away from Illya, and he sought out the touch of Napoleon, the pair of them easily meeting over her short stature.

She liked that.

She moaned wantonly, and let her head drop back against Napoleon's sturdy chest. Illya and Napoleon kissed as though they had forgotten she was there, but she didn't care, because the Russian's hand had already flipped up the front of her dress and was rubbing against the front of her cotton panties, and Napoleon's hand was on her breast, easily finding her hardened nipple. They touched her through her scraps of clothes that she definitely wished she didn't have on, and she was surprised when she felt the tension in her stomach increasing. When Illya's fingers scratched over her underwear where her clit was, her whole body jerked. Napoleon followed Illya's lead, his fingers pinching at her nipple through her dress and her body trembled again.

Gaby came before they had even taken off one item of clothing.

It turned out that Gaby liked watching them.

In fact, she _encouraged_ them to leave her out, so that she could watch with one hand between her legs and the other on her breast.

They were more than happy to comply. Gaby always joined in at some point, but she would get off once or twice by just looking at them twist around each other. Usually it was Illya in charge, especially after a bad day out in the field. Napoleon knew that he needed to take control of the situation, and Gaby knew that as well, and she would submit to him as well.

Today was no different.

Illya had roughly thrown Napoleon on the bed and had then wrestled lightly with Gaby, putting her down on the bed between Napoleon's legs, holding onto her chin as he kissed her mouth. His lips seared over hers and she mumbled something incoherent, as one of his hands shoved down the front off her dress and under her bra, rubbing her nipple with two fingers. Gaby's hands dug into the Napoleon's lower legs. The American was still laid back on the bed, just watching the two of them.

"I want you to suck him," Illya said, man-handling Gaby so that she was on her hands and knees, facing Napoleon. The dark haired man bit down hard on his lower lip as Gaby worked quickly at undoing his belt and then button and zipper. She sunk her mouth around him and Napoleon let out a hiss, his whole body jerking. Illya watched them for a moment, his eyes dark with lust before he reached forward and grabbed either side of her underwear. Sometimes Gaby didn't like it when things got so rough between them that her clothes were ripped, but he didn't waste a second in tearing the seams of her lace panties and dropping them down to the ground. It only took him seconds before he had a condom wrapped around him and was bottoming out inside of her.

Gaby's moan was broken and she swallowed all of Napoleon, his cock hitting the back of her throat.

This was what Illya liked.

Being able to control both of them.

Being able to watch as Napoleon came about, his eyes flickering between Gaby and Illya.

Being able to watch Gaby's petite body shuddering over and over again as she came.

* * *

His fits of anger which could lead to him getting in trouble after a case were almost non-existent now. He had always able to hold it together during a case, even if there had been times when he was close to snapping, going into a manic state where he didn't remember what had happened as he stared down at his bloodied knuckles after. But it was after, when everything was settling over him and he was remembering what he needed to go through, what he had done, when his hands would begin to shake, and then it only took one wrong word or look and he snapped.

It was his one liability as an agent.

It was also why most of the other KGB agents refused to work with, even because of his impressive record for closing cases, because the fits of anger were often taken out on them.

But he couldn't _dream_ of hurting Napoleon or Gaby.

Just the _thought_ of it made him sick to his stomach.

Today wasn't a normal day though.

They had been working on this case for almost six weeks now. He and Napoleon were able to see each other and been seen in public together, but they could only meet Gaby in secret, and it was only for fleeting seconds at a time. She was undercover as the nanny for Senator. A Senator who was well known for having wandering hands. Gaby claimed that he had only made a couple of passes, several brushes against her arms or shoulders, but both men knew differently. There was nothing that they could do about it though.

Tonight it had all come to a head.

There was a party in the Senators home, and Alexander Waverly had got them invites. Gaby was going to be upstairs and trying to find the papers they needed in his study, charming her way around his security. Napoleon made his way up to the second floor of the building, speaking softly into his bug to assure both Gaby and Illya that he was safely approaching the stairs to go up to the third floor when there was rapid tapping against the mic.

"Peril?" Napoleon hesitated. "Is that you?"

"No, Cowboy," Illya murmured. "That's Gaby."

It had been a close one. Two of the guards had walked into the study while Gaby had been crouched down behind the desk and working at the safe. One of them had grabbed Gaby and stretched her out over the desk, leering down her shirt and pawing at the ties of her dress. The other was firmly saying something to her, pointing down at the safe and an angry look on his face. Napoleon had come in just in time to knock them both out, but he had only walked in just in time. It had been too close, because these security guards had been told to fire first and ask questions later.

If it was Illya or Napoleon, then they would have been out cold, there wouldn't have been a moment of foreplay with a pretty girl.

That night when they were back at their hotel room, Illya was livid. His whole was trembling. Napoleon had looked across at Gaby, and then nodded at the other man in the room. The dark haired man left the two of them, going toward the bathroom and closing the door quietly behind him. Gaby put down her clutch softly on the kitchen table, reaching up to pull the pin that was holding her hair in a tight knot, letting the soft waves fall around her shoulders and frame her face. Illya was looking out the window, hands clenching and unclenching at his side as she walked over to him.

"Illya," she murmured, her voice a whisper. "I need you to take off your clothes." He didn't move, and she gave him a few minutes before she repeated her request. Illya's hands lifted and she pursed her lips together in relief as she realized he was undoing his tie. It fell to the ground and he started undoing the buttons of his jacket, slinging it over the back of the kitchen chair to his side. Next came his shirt, then he was toeing off his shoes and socks. Gaby's eyes drifted over his muscled torso, the small dips and fades of old scars, her whole body beginning to prickle in anticipation. When he was naked, he turned around to face her, his hardened torso looking softer in the dim light coming from the lamp in the corner of the room.

"You could have—"

"Don't talk," Gaby interrupted him, her voice still soft but a little firmer this time. His eyebrows pulled together and his lips pressed in a line. She didn't relent her gaze though, pinning him with her eyes. Finally, he jerked his head in a nod. She rewarded him with a small smile before her hands went to the clasps of her dress. It was falling in a puddle on the ground a moment later, and she easily discarded her stockings, underwear and bra. He was still angry, but slowly it changing.

She could see that he wanted to take charge, but he knew that something was different tonight. Gaby sat down on the kitchen table, her knees apart and her dripping cunt presented to Illya. He licked his lips and looked down at her, at the perfectly trimmed pubic hair that was damp with her arousal. He took a step closer to her but she shook her head, lifting her hand and bracing her foot against his chest.

"Not so fast, Illya," she whispered to him. "We're still waiting on someone." Illya swallowed hard, his eyes flickering over to the bathroom door, where he could still hear Napoleon moving around, before looking back at Gaby. She had a small smirk on her face, her pearly whites nibbling on her lower lip tantalizingly as she let her eyes drift up and down his body. He was erect, pre-cum already gathering at the head, and his shoulders were heaving.

He was angry.

But as soon as the door opened and Napoleon came out, she saw that it was ebbing away. She looked over her shoulder and grinned at the American. Napoleon was holding a small vial of lube in his hand, and he walked around to stand behind Illya and he put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"You need to calm down," Napoleon said smoothly, his voice heavy and calming, spreading over Illya. Illya took in a deep breath and rolled his neck, trying to force the anger out of him. But just the fact that he had to _focus_ on the anger made it build up again. Napoleon felt the tension and he frowned. "Stop thinking," he said sharply, his voice a little harsher than Gaby's. Illya breathed in deeply, and before he had another thought, Napoleon was pushing him forward. "Eat her," he ordered.

Illya was all too happy to comply.

Gaby's face contorted as Illya leaned down and viciously bit at her inner thigh. Napoleon knew that she liked it a little harder, but he was doing what he always did, trying to take back control, and that was the opposite of what they were trying for right now. So he leaned forward, and twisted his fingers in Illya's hair and pulled back tightly.

"Nicely," he warned the Russian in his native tongue. Illya's body twitched and Napoleon's hand slid around to the man's taunt abdominal muscles and then down lower, squeezing his sac until Illya jerked his head in a nod. Napoleon released him, giving his cock a quick pump and enjoying the sound that Illya made before his hands were on his back. Gaby smiled over Illya's head at Napoleon and then leaned forward to whisper encouragement in his ear as his lips started kissing their way up her leg. Napoleon took a few steps back, sitting down on the kitchen chair and spreading his leg, slowly pumping his hand up and down his cock as he watched his lovers.

Napoleon could see the exact moment when Illya's tongue found Gaby's cunt; her whole body stiffened and her eyes fell shut, an incredible, throaty moan falling from between her plump lips. The dark haired mans body stiffened and his cock throbbed as he tried to keep his movements slow. Gaby's knuckles were bloodless as she gripped the edge of the wooden table, her chest heaving, her small breasts raising and falling rapidly as she breathed harshly. Napoleon noticed Illya beginning to move quicker and he made a noise at the back of his throat. Gaby's eyes opened and she looked over at him, before gripping Illya's hair and pulling at it tightly.

"Slow," she murmured to him. Napoleon saw Illya's body tense up at the order and for a moment, he wondered if the Russian was going to argue. But then he was leaning forward and licking at her nipple. She tolerated it for a few minutes, chewing down on her lower lip and holding his head against her chest, before pushing him back down to the centre of her legs. He lapped at her gently, his teeth brushing over her clit a couple of times, before burying his tongue inside her dripping hole.

"You're going to eat her until she's coming," Napoleon told him. "And then you're going to keep going until she comes again." Gaby made a little squeak at the thought, and probably also because of the way Illya hand was now playing it's way underneath her. Napoleon and Gaby were in this together, so she looked over at him before she started laying back down on the hard table. Napoleon didn't wait for Illya to ask before handing over the lube. Illya was distracted for a moment to lather up his fingers, and then he looked over to Napoleon.

Pausing before making any further move.

As though asking for permission.

As though giving up the control that he might have _thought_ he had over this situation.

Napoleon became even harder in his hand, visibly swallowing before jerking his head in a single nod. Illya looked up at Gaby, his fingers never inching closer to her body before she nodded at him as well, giving him her consent. His fingers slid into her without another moment, and Gaby let out a moan, her back arching off the table top. Napoleon smiled as he watched her, and then watched his other lover bend down to go back to licking at her pussy.

It wasn't long before Gaby was moaning, her back snapping almost violently off the table, letting out a moan that shot right down to Napoleon's spine to his cock. His wrist started moving a little bit faster, and he bit back a moan when he saw another one of Illya's fingers slip inside Gaby's tight back hole. He hadn't asked permission before doing so, but Napoleon was going to let this one go. Illya's nose brushed against Gaby's clit and the small girl moaned again, her fingers twining in his hair and pulling hard. She crashed into her next orgasm and then let her head fall heavily back onto the table, one her hands brushing over her face.

"Illya," Napoleon said quietly. Illya pulled his hands away from their woman and looked over to him. "Turn around and let her get your ready." Illya frowned, his body stiffening, looking over his shoulder to where Gaby was slowly pulling herself up.

"Get ready for what, Cowboy?" Illya asked in a low voice.

"No questions," Gaby reprimanded him lightly. "Now lean forward, and give Napoleon that pretty mouth of yours. Put your hands on his legs and take him in your mouth..." she reached out and touched two of her nails against his back, scratching them down lightly over his skin and sending a shiver through him. "And let me get you ready..." her voice dropped a few octaves and Illya swallowed hard, turning back to Napoleon, who had stretched out his legs a little further apart.

"Okay," Illya bit out, and Napoleon gave him a half smile, before licking his tongue over his lower lip as he looked down to where Napoleon was leaning forward. His big hands clenched Napoleon's thighs, his body instinctively going to kneel but Gaby made a noise of disapproval at the back of her throat.

"No," she murmured. "Bend." Illya did so, this time only pausing slightly before doing so, his body bending at the waist so that he was leaning down so that his mouth was only a breath away from Napoleon's cock and his ass was sticking out, toward Gaby. Gaby smiled as she picked up the lube from where Illya had dropped it. She crouched down on her knees, lining her face up with Illya's ass before leaning forward and dipping her tongue between his strong cheeks. He made a whine at the back of his throat, his mouth sliding down further around Napoleon.

"I like that noise," Napoleon whispered. "Make him do it again, Gaby," he encouraged her. Gaby smiled against his taunt skin, her skilled tongue reaching out for the tight ring of muscle again, just as Illya was taking the American into his mouth, his trimmed pubic hair brushing against Illya's nose. Her tongue slipped into him and he let out another choked moan, Napoleon unable to fight back the urge to thrust his hips upward, his cock chasing Illya's throat. She ate him for a few more minutes before lathering her fingers and his crack with lube and pushing one finger inside. It entered him easily, and so she added another finger. She found his prostate and rubbed it, making Illya squirm under her touch, between his two lovers.

"I think he's ready," Gaby murmured to Napoleon, smiling over Illya's shoulder.

"You hear that?" Napoleon breathed as Illya's movements never ceased. "Are you ready for me, Peril?" When he realized that that what he was being prepared for, he let out another moan, pushing himself backward harder against Gaby's fingers and then forward against Napoleon's dick. "I think he's ready," Napoleon agreed between breathless gasps as Illya's tongue flicked over his head and then sucked at the base.

"Okay," Gaby grinned and pulled her fingers out of him. She took a few steps back so that he could stand up, and Napoleon pushed on his shoulders, to stop Illya's movements. Illya stood up, taking in a shaky breath as he obediently waited for his next instructions. He wasn't used to being the one taking orders, he was usually the one that was in charge, but with the way his body was trembling and his eyes were so dark they were navy—the two of them could tell that he liked it.

"Sit on my cock, Illya," Napoleon said firmly. Illya stepped forward, resting both hands on Napoleon's broad shoulders before lowering himself. He let out a moan that started right from the pit of his stomach as the thick head of Napoleon's cock entered Illya's tight ass. He wanted to wait a moment, to let himself adjust, but Napoleon jerked his head upward so that he was filling him up, and Illya let out a surprised grunt. His eyes squeezed shut, but then there was a soft mouth back on his, and he focussed on kissing his favourite girl as he got used to the pinch of having Napoleon buried inside him.

"Move, baby," Gaby whispered in his ear as she pulled her lips away from his mouth and bit down lightly at his ear, tracing her tongue along the shell. Illya forced his thighs to support his weight, rising and falling, their groans mixing together as Gaby's hand closed around Illya's cock and tugged at it in time with his movements. She was so wet she was dripping down her thighs, and one of her hands went between her legs to pinch at his clit as she watched the expressions on her mens faces.

"God, just like that, Peril," Napoleon moaned. He twitched his hips, changing the position he was entering Illya, and the Russian's whole body stiffened, his blunt fingernails digging into Napoleon's shoulders. Napoleon's cock rammed into Illya's prostate over and over again as he thrust his hips forward. Gaby's hands never stopped moving, one around Illya, the other inside herself, and she managed to hold herself off until Illya was coming over her fingers, coating her with thick, milky fluid, and then was gasping as her own orgasm rushed over her. Napoleon was only seconds behind them, emptying himself inside of Illya, and then the three of them were leaning against one another, breathing heavily.

It was almost ten minutes later before Illya spoke.

"I'm still putting it into my report that you two acted recklessly, going in there before I had joined you." His partners let out laughs, pressing kisses to his cheeks and lips before they parted ways to clean up.

 _Leave a review, they make me so happy :)_


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